


Down Deep

by KatherineKrawl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Come Inflation, Come Marking, Come Swallowing, E02S03: Primavera, Emotions, Face-Fucking, Finger Sucking, Hair-pulling, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal on his knees, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise, Season/Series 03, Submissive Hannibal, Tenderness, Will searches Hannibal, catacombs, dominant will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatherineKrawl/pseuds/KatherineKrawl
Summary: Will had known he would find Hannibal in the catacombs.What he didn't know was whether he was chasing the cannibal killer for revenge, closure or the making of amends.Perhaps all of the above.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 347





	Down Deep

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written with a plot I was lucky enough to be allowed to steal from the generous @lwvecrime! Thank you so much!

_“You shouldn't be down here alone.”_

_“I'm not alone. I'm with you.”_

_“You don't know whose side I'm on.”_

Inspector Pazzi had quickly lost him in the darkness of the catacombs, as Will had seeped into the shadows below. The depth had dragged him under, as he stepped left and right past the damp and uneven walls and pillars. 

Like a slithering snake. 

_“What are you going to do when you find him, your il Mostro?”_

Will's eyes burned with the light of the candles.

“I'm... I'm curious about that myself.”

Echoes of blunt footsteps and the puffs of uneven breathing died away, and Will knew he had lost the detective's presence in his back.

_“You and I carry the dead with us, Signor Graham. We both need to unburden.”_

Perhaps Will's words had frightened him back up, to the living.

“Why don't you carry your dead back to the chapel before you count yourself among them?”

Rough stone chafed his fingers as he traced the walls along his strides.

_“You are already dead, aren't you?”_

And maybe he _was_ already dead. Why else would he have come here, if part of him wasn't ready and willing to buck off those skeletons on his back.

_“Buonanotte, commendatore.”_

Silence.

Pillars holding flickering candles towered around him, and broke his path forward as he slipped further and further from the church, and deeper into the ground. A cellar of death and bones and earth. Will moved, eyes ahead, and following a path with nothing but his own yearning gut. Not for a moment considering where his next step would take him, or where the previous had led him. He was lost, as he slipped through the narrow spaces. Chasing a shadow that he couldn't see, but for the promise it was there.

“Hannibal,” he called out, his voice soft within the cry. The name echoed back at him from the different creases and dents in the uneven ceiling, making it sound like a dozen men called it out right back at him. 

It was an almost cruel reminder of what lived inside his head, every day, since he had opened his eyes in the hospital.

Hannibal. Hannibal.

He _was_ there. He was _here_. Will smelled him amongst the dead, and heard his heartbeat in the echo of his own. His elated breathing was matched in the darkness.

Something moved, lived, down here with him. He felt him everywhere. 

And Will chased him, deeper, further into the catacombs and into the darkness that swallowed him like a hungry beast. Deeper and deeper into the earth.

Hannibal.

He didn't look behind him, knowing whatever was here, he would only find it ahead. 

“Hannibal.”

His chase of shadows halted when the labyrinth tore up into an open space before him. A courtyard without pillars, bones, corners and candles. Instead, damaged statues of angels were positioned at his side, as well as at the entrance of a meeting labyrinth across.

Sense within the madness.

He came to a halt between the pillars. His eyes fluttered up.

Above, light was allowed through the cracks, as if hidden inside a broken tomb, and lights of blue and green streamed down upon him. 

“Hannibal.”

A whisper, this time. Words only carried on the sound of his breath.

“I forgive you.”

Silence.

Silence.

Not a single breath.

Not a single pump of blood.

Until there was a rustle of wind. 

A moist intake of the dusty air.

The flicker of a living shadow.

And Hannibal appeared.

He rose from the darkness between the pillars across the open space. Slow and heavy, as if a dream.

But he was no dream.

Hannibal didn't speak as he stepped into the courtyard. His eyes were blown to dark blood and brandy. His clothes black, his hair disheveled. 

On his finger the imprint of a recently removed wedding ring.

Will felt his veins tightening with piercing, painful ice, while his head danced wild with lashing flames of heat. He watched the man that had promised him the world, and had taken it all when Will had failed to understand himself well enough to accept the offered gold.

And now, Will looked back at the man, not knowing if he needed revenge, closure, or amends.

Hannibal walked slowly, with the grace of water and the strength of wind. He came to the center of the underground courtyard, and looked at Will as if beholding the sun amongst frozen darkness.

This was the man that had embedded a blade in him with enough precision to cost him so much time, so much blood and so much pain - without even gracing him with death. 

The man who took Abigail's life right in front of him, even when he begged.

“I forgive you,” he spoke again.

Hannibal's lips were slightly parted as he halted at the center. His neck and throat flushed pink, and Will could see the trembling of his fingers. Thick moisture shimmered in his eyes.

Weak, within walls of strength. Hannibal was allowing himself to be just that, right in front of him.

They now both understood there was no life beyond the other, and Will knew then, as his heart fluttered and his core pulsed dark and hot within him, that he had come here for revenge, closure _and_ the making of amends. 

Because Hannibal needed him. Hannibal needed him just as much.

Will watched as the man shed a single tear that fell from lash to cheek, before gracefully sinking down to his knees at the center of the space. His open, dripping eyes never leaving Will with awe and amazement, as if unbelieving he was real. Pain an open wound fresh in every pore.

On his knees. On his knees before Will, who carried a knife in the pocket of his coat.

_As if he could do it any other way than with his hands._

“Hannibal,” he whispered again, as he shed that coat from his shoulders and allowed it to drop on the floor behind. He stepped in, without a moment of hesitation, to walk on unsteady feet and with a head light enough to lift him, until he came to stand before his kneeling man.

Eyes of gold and tears followed him there, sliding up so greedily it made Will's senses crackle with life. He could smell the darkness, hear the moist breathing and the pounding blood. Beneath the thin patch of skin he could feel the heat and the desire.

Where it ended, he was unsure.

Will's fingers reached for the hem of his shirt, pushing it up to reveal the pink, thick scar on his belly right before Hannibal's leaking eyes. “I've forgiven you,” he hissed without bite, and saw the absolute open beauty break Hannibal's features as he laid eyes on his creation.

A reward.

His mark, the smile of Will's betrayal, made Hannibal weep unapologetic tears in dead silence, as he watched the skin before him with tenderness and unabashed love.

The need that the man exuded was almost overwhelming, and Will could feel his own thighs clench as he reached for a fistful of Hannibal's hair.

“Go on,” he hummed, leading Hannibal's face to bury against his stomach with a deep inhale and a broken sigh. A nuzzling touch instantly followed the curve of the scar, before wet lips began to trace, taste and worship the skin with desperate, feverish adoration.

Will's lashes fluttered with the feeling and his cock filled in his jeans as Hannibal whined pitifully against his belly. Rubbing and kissing and experiencing the flesh he had so deeply damaged before. Two strong hands came up to cling at Will's hips, as Will's fingers tightened in Hannibal's hair, and his eyes followed every sucked kiss into his skin.

“It's yours,” Will spoke hoarsely as his free hand brushed along Hannibal's cheekbones, his jaw and throat with soothing strokes, and Hannibal closed his eyes devotedly into the sensation.

The man was soft and open. Grateful for his return, Will knew. Grateful for sparing them both eternal grief and emptiness.

Hannibal moaned, and Will's muscles tensed and buckled under the heat of his mouth. Needful fingers came to hook into the waistband of Will's jeans as a hungry tongue followed lower, desperate and surrendering, along the trail of hair that disappeared beneath the fabric.

Will's cock was hard, his skin was flushed and his fingers twitched around Hannibal's hair as he tilted his hips back, away.

“No,” he said, out of breath and quivering, but unwilling to let Hannibal plunder him.

This time, Will claimed his control.

Hannibal blinked up at him – shining, bruised lips parted, jaw slack and eyes hazy with lust and unfiltered need. Pained with the punishment of being denied. 

_Please_

Will's hand came to stroke Hannibal's face again. Calming and cupping, as if to inspect the man's features with scrutiny. Gauging the weight of his need.

It was dire.

“Shhh.”

Will's fingers pushed against the zipper of his jeans, as the other hand grabbed hold of Hannibal's chin to keep him in place. He shushed the whimpers as he opened his fly and took his hard, thick and leaking cock into his hand, making them both groan out loud with the relief of its release, the sight and the scent of his heavy arousal.

Will's hand squeezed Hannibal's chin, holding him back as Will stroked along his own length with a tight grip of his slippery fingers. And fuck, he was filled out and solid hard from nothing but the ghost of breath and eyes of fire and surrender. 

“Hold still,” Will croaked, his fingers squeezing bruisingly into Hannibal's skin. “Don't move.”

Hannibal obeyed under his touch. His body stilled and grew pliant in Will's grip, as the Ripper looked up at him from his place on the floor. Kneeling before him, and willingly giving in to Will's control.

Hannibal's eyes flickered from Will's exposed cock, up to his face, down and up again as Will held himself with lazy strokes and looked down on the fragility of Hannibal's starving features. No longer was he lined with domination or pleased with his deception. He was flushed and unsteady, pleading silently with parted lips, trembling and waiting.

Will stroked a thumb over that moist lower lip.

“Open for me,” he said, as he pushed his thumb past Hannibal's subservient lips, and felt the other man suck the digit desperately into his mouth.

“Fuck.” 

The suction was strong and wet and thoroughly committed as Will watched how Hannibal closed his eyes to devour him with lips and tongue. Blond lashes fluttered against Hannibal's cheek and the skin flushed pink and warm beneath Will's fingers.

So eager. 

Will pumped his cock as he held Hannibal's face in his hand, and poked around the hot, sharp mouth that held his thumb. Teeth, crooked and dangerous. A tongue so hot it licked like flames, and cheeks lined with silk flesh that sucked around him as Hannibal's face hollowed with effort.

His cock was aching for that slick, hot slide of pulsing bliss, but Will's hand kept a firm grip on Hannibal's jaw as more fingers demanded entrance on the rim of his lips. An index finger pushed inside, a middle finger followed next, and Hannibal's lips closed around all the intrusion to explore every inch of the offered skin with nothing short of submission.

“Good,” he breathed, and the moan that shook from Hannibal's throat was a broken, shattering shudder. Will felt the echo of it wreck through his own bones.

“Fuck,” he croaked, as his cock jerked painfully demanding inside his own grip. Those eyes of red and gold flickered open to watch the wet drops of pearly white pushing up from between the slit of Will's erection, and sliding down the side of the swollen, purple head.

Will's fingers vibrated when a pained moan quivered around his flesh, and now every deep breath through his nose was a direct need to keep him upright.

Fuck.

They hadn't touched like this before. They hadn't kissed. They had never expressed the desire to cross this line, and steer their relationship in the direction of... more.

But it had been laced through every look, every exchange, since the beginning. There was no way back, and they could only choose to let each other go, or move beyond into what had always been pushing beneath the surface.

A passionate, unhinged and codependent love. 

Will felt teeth clamping down on his fingers when he tried to pull them from Hannibal's mouth, and allowed his flesh to be scraped as he retracted from between red, swollen lips.

“Hannibal...” Will warned breathlessly as he clenched his hand back in Hannibal's hair, pulling and gripping as he guided his head forward and up. Those eyes of dark and light and blood swam and burned on him, as they reflected Will's control. As if now, part of this man had been signed away to him forever.

“Easy.”

Hannibal's face was flushed and shiny with blood and sweat, tears and spit, as he nodded silently and obedient. Will got lost in the look of him as he guided those opened, wanting lips to the head of his veined and pulsing cock.

“That's it.”

A wet mouth touched the spongy flesh of the mushroom head, and Will's hips jerked forward almost violently at the sensation. Tight and hot and – fuck – cruelly silken. He was aware but helpless of the sounds that pushed from his own lips, as he breathed gutted moans with every exhale.

“There you go,” he whispered, trying to sooth Hannibal's trembling shoulders, his fluttering lashes and his twitching mouth, before he fed him the head of his cock, and slowly pushed through the length that followed.

The tightness was choking, and Hannibal's mouth sucked around him with abandon as another tear fell from his lashes to Will's quivering belly. With control Will could only muster through pure and traumatic determination, he held Hannibal's hair and guided the man's head completely over the length of his thick, heavy cock.

“Good,” he praised, his voice pushing through clenched teeth as Hannibal's nose touched his pubic hair. The throat around him contracted hard, but Hannibal didn't gag as he drooled and swallowed around Will. Taking the offer whole.

“That's good.”

His words made Hannibal's back tremble hard as his weight wobbled on his knees, but Will's hand was holding him tightly, pulling on his hair to keep him upright.

“Slowly, now.”

Will's grip tilted, giving Hannibal a freer range to move his mouth back and forth over the length of Will's painfully hard and needful erection. He took the space and the opportunity like a starving man, sliding back with wet lips dragging, and forth with a determination to take every last inch. His tongue swirled, lapping at the pre-cum, and his hands clenched and gripped hard into the waistband of Will's jeans.

Twitching, begging, but not daring to take liberties he wasn't granted.

That was good.

“Put your hands behind your back,” Will grunted, lost in the tight, wet slide on his dick to the point his control was paining them both. But Hannibal's eyes fluttered up, as he released Will's jeans and folded his arms dutifully behind his back.

Those eyes, those flushed cheeks, and those plush pink lips around the thick, wet shaft of Will's length was an image Will wanted on the walls of every room. It was exquisite with raw vulnerability and worship. A glimpse of the future.

“That's right,” Will praised him again when Hannibal used his mouth and tongue to stroke and suck him down. Saliva hung in thick strings from his mouth and chin as he worked himself forward hard and fast despite the tight pull on his hair between Will's fingers.

Hannibal buried his face with him; eyes full of fire, hot and simmering - and blessing every inch of flesh. The sight was as powerful as God himself granting Will his torch of wrath.

“Good. That's good.”

And Will loved Hannibal. He loved him, and understood why he did. What he didn't understand was something he wasn't going to question any longer: why it was Hannibal that was the missing piece. Why it was all that darkness that felt like home.

Hannibal's eyes went from open wide to deeply closed, forth and back as he stroked Will deep with the inside of his tight mouth. He slurped and licked and inhaled with a sob whenever his nose buried into Will's pubic hair, where his head was held up tightly by Will's guiding hand.

And it was sizzling the ends of Will's every nerve with a bone-deep, weakening pleasure. It was filthy and glorious, whole and cradling him from the inside out where everything was weak and full and pink.

“Don't swallow,” he grunted, warning Hannibal when he felt the tight ring of his opening clench and his thighs starting to quiver. He was close. He was barely hanging on.

He groaned, deep and low, as his hips started to pump forward of their own accord. His control was slipping fast and free as his fingers tightened to hold Hannibal's head in place. His other hand cupped the slack jaw tightly as he pushed forward, fucking into Hannibal's mouth as the man moaned and whimpered around his length. The man's lips twitched, trying to keep up as saliva and pre-cum dribbled from his chin, and lashes fluttered hard as he stared up at Will with nothing but adoration.

“Fuck, fuck...” Will whimpered, as his knees buckled and his hole pulsed wildly around nothing. 

Tonight, he would ride Hannibal's cock. He would press his hands over the man's nose and mouth as he sank down around him. He would wrap fingers around his throat, and squeeze bruises into the flesh as he came.

“Fuck.”

Will pulled back, twitching and balancing, as he gripped Hannibal's shoulder for support and allowed only the tip of his cock between those pouty lips. Spurting his seed into the hot squeeze that was Hannibal's mouth.

Hannibal would taste him. 

Hannibal would burn with it.

Will's eyes were deep on Hannibal's as he shuddered and shook and released himself so hard he could barely see beyond those bloody, golden eyes. The pleasure was scorching, like blue flames licking on dead, salted firewood. It licked at his back, his ass, his thighs, his groin, belly and loins, all the way up between his shoulder blades. It made his muscles stutter and buckle, as his belly shook heavily against Hannibal's wet cheek.

“H-H-Ha...”

Hannibal's hair was still in his grip, as the other hand squeezed the man's shoulder to the point of pain.

“Han-ni-bal...” Will choked, as he rode the waves of his salvation with the rocking of his hips. Hannibal's lips were suckling him, softly but tight, until the pull on his spilled, sensitive cock became too much for Will to bare. He pushed him off, curling his fingers tight under Hannibal's wet chin as ecstasy sang through his veins.

Hannibal looked beaten, used, and throughly blissful as he looked at him with those candlelight eyes, thick teardrops clinging to his lashes. Saliva dangled from his mouth, but his lips were tightly closed.

“Did you swallow?” Will asked, and felt a thick and loving satisfaction coat his insides when Hannibal shook his head.

Will's thumb brushed over the seam of Hannibal's mouth as he licked his own lips wet. “Show me,” he said, and felt another pull of pleasure in his abdomen when thick, white seed spilled from between Hannibal's lips, seeping onto his chin.

It was plenty, and Hannibal's mouth was full as he opened it to show Will the semen he was storing. His. Will's.

“Well done,” Will praised as he pushed his own fingers into the thick, sticky cum, coating the tips as Hannibal stared up at him, mouth open and seed leaking from the corners.

“Is this what you wanted?” Will asked gently as his stained fingers started tracing over Hannibal's bottom lip, his nose, his cheeks. The man nodded his head, loose and pliant and radiant with pleasure. Sticky seed was rubbed over every seam and crease as Hannibal closed his eyes, and relaxed fully into Will's care. His eyelids were painted, from corner to wing, as Will rubbed his lashes and eyebrows with his dirty, sticky fingers. His eyebrows, his hair, the shells of his ears.

Will was painting his mark, until every trace of Hannibal's scent was absorbed. Replaced. Only after his hands had stroked his seed into the skin of Hannibal's throat, did he caress the drying flesh with encouragement.

“Swallow,” he said, and watched Hannibal take it all. One swallow, and every drop of the remaining essence was burning in Hannibal's belly.

On his knees, Hannibal remained. Silently staring up at him and nuzzling into his hand the moment Will cupped his dirty cheek. Still quivering, still weak, but blissfully calming in Will's caressing touch.

“Is this your surrender?” Will asked, as he held Hannibal's skull and searched the open eyes. “Are you mine?”

Hannibal's nods came eager and sloppily, as if a peaceful relief gripped him from within.

“To use, to kill or to love. I am yours,” he spoke at last, voice hoarse and soft – surreal and long lost to Will but for his memories. But his words hard and steady with truth.

Will smiled, feeling his own tears prickling as he squeezed Hannibal's skin gently. “Then you will follow me,” he said, joy thick in his heart.

Hannibal's throat worked with a swallow, his hands still trapped willingly behind his back.

“To the world that I created for us?” he asked hopefully, and Will's smile pushed into a grin. Hannibal, per usual, understood him just too well.

“Yes,” he said, “...but shaped by my design.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it and it made you feel something other than the 2020 dread for a little while! <3 Love you guys!


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